


Checking In Early

by howler32557038



Series: The Simple Life [12]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Mpreg, Pre-SGCW, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:00:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22270675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howler32557038/pseuds/howler32557038
Summary: Steve gets an early birthday present on his way back from an assignment in Fiji.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: The Simple Life [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1031180
Comments: 19
Kudos: 243





	Checking In Early

**Author's Note:**

> From @tummlinsonn's prompt on Tumblr (which I've gone back to).

**JULY 3, 2022**

Sam and Steve board the quinjet half an hour after successfully finishing their operation. Too many times, one of them has walked the other up that ramp, bleeding and exhausted. Sometimes they drag their feet on the way up, then collapse into their respective seats in the cockpit and stare at the controls for a few minutes, feeling the weight of their mutual failures and bad calls. Sometimes Steve has to sprint back to the jet and take off with the cargo bay doors open, hoping Sam can fly himself in alright and they’ll be able to shake their pursuers.

Today, Sam opens the bay door and hops up onto the edge of the ramp before it can meet the pavement. He’s whistling. They’d broken up a multi-national tech trafficking ring operating in Fiji — the more dangerous the tech, the higher the value. Not a safe mission, by any means, but quick and easy enough for Steve and Sam that Bucky had barely kissed Steve goodbye. Steve’s glad he didn’t leave him worried.

“Wish they all went down like that,” Sam says to himself, then slides comfortably into the pilot’s seat. He takes off too fast like always, and Steve nearly loses the coffee he’d found the time to buy that morning. In reality, it’s 2 a.m. in Fiji, but back home it’s already nine. Steve has found the simplest cure for jet-lag: not changing his sleep and coffee schedule if he can help it.

9 a.m. means Bucky has been at his appointment with Bruce for half an hour already. Steve remembers the time of the appointment — he’d seen it posted to the fridge three days ago, scribbled on the corner of Lincoln’s proudly displayed coloring page. Steve’s stomach twists again, but not with motion sickness this time — Sam has remembered how to fly sensibly. He’s just a little giddy. This is the end of the first trimester, which will presumably mean a new ultrasound. He’s been checking his phone constantly for ten minutes now, hoping for photos or a call.

When Sam reaches cruising altitude, he contacts Stark on the jet’s view-screen. They’re about four hours early for their check-in, which is so unusual that it deserves a phone call. Stark says the two of them have gained the reputation of ‘chronically late’ with the ground control staff, and neither Steve nor Sam can offer an argument. Stark takes the call on his cellphone, although Steve wonders if his watch or glasses aren’t taking video calls for him already. He’s in medical, although Steve assumes it’s nothing serious since Tony’s eating a popsicle.

“Oh my god,” he mumbles, “So weird, just had you dialed up, Cap. How’d it go?”

“Hello to you, too, Tony,” Sam says stiffly. “We’re all cleaned up here. Met up with our agent, got in just fine, coordinated with the local authorities, and surrounded them during their little meet and greet. All in custody, all the tech on its way to MIT to be inspected. Zero casualties.”

“Ooh, looks like I’m making a surprise trip to MIT to say hi,” Tony remarks thoughtfully.

“That’s what you say? Come on, Stark, done early. No casualties.”

“Are you in Cho’s old lab?” Steve interrupts, noticing the pattern on the tiled floor behind Tony.

“No, I am in Dr. Banner’s _new_ lab,” Tony corrects him. “Cho’s busy trying to recreate Bucky’s very unique organs in a lab and she won’t come hang with me. Oh, and Banner and Barnes. They’re here, too. I really was about to call you.”

Steve laughs and shakes his head. “How’s he doing?”

“Him? Who cares about him? Look at this grainy image of your second child.” Tony flips the camera around and catches Banner’s profile, looking off to his right, laughing as he talks to Bucky. There’s a popsicle in his hand, too. Tony pushes past Banner’s shoulder to focus on the computer screen. “We’ve got arms and legs. No news on the sex yet or I’d spoil it for you again.”

Steve is silent for quite a while, feeling the corners of his lips lift involuntarily until he relents and smiles.

 _Wow._ That’s the first time they’ve looked like a baby. That’s _their_ baby.

Sam reaches back and slaps him lightly in the belly. “Look at that, Steve,” he says.

“What?”

“Your baby, dude.”

“Sorry, hard to hear,” Steve says faintly. “Ears are ringing.”

“Uh-huh. Those better be wedding bells,” Sam chuckles.

Tony abruptly flips the camera around again, and Steve suddenly remembers that Tony could see him this whole time, as he had slipped into a momentary stupor. It’s just that he saw his baby _moving_. “Wilson, keep Steve from choking on his tongue, please. Anything urgent to report? You guys safe? I wanna pass him over to Barnes.”

“We’re all good,” Sam confirms.

“Good. Don’t shut your eyes while your flying, pilot, he’s mostly decent.”

Stark hands his phone off and for a moment all Steve sees is the tile floor rushing by, but then Bucky’s beaming face lights up the screen. He’s got a beautiful, broad grin on. “Hi,” he says awkwardly.

_Have I ever seen him look this happy?_

Bucky’s eyes are gorgeous and bright in the sunny exam room, although the sunshine also reveals the relatively pale, greenish color of his face. At this time of the morning, he’s probably still fighting past a lot of nausea. His hair is growing out fast, and Steve’s glad he’s letting it go for now. His brown waves are just past his ears, and almost like an optical illusion, he and Lincoln suddenly look just as much alike as Lincoln and Steve, and Steve can’t get enough of seeing them next to each other. “Hey, Buck.”

“Happy birthday, Steve.”

“You’re a day early,” Steve smirks.

“Oh darn it, no wonder everybody got upset with me for all the fireworks. Steve — seriously. Listen, this is a big baby. Bruce—” He glances away from the phone. “What did you say it—?” He listens, then turns back to the screen, wider-eyed than before. “Fourteen centimeters. And almost two ounces, if the scanner thing works. That's—”

“Way above average,” Steve nods. At twelve weeks, bigger babies might be ten centimeters and weigh an ounce. They hadn’t seen Lincoln until week fifteen, and he’d only weighed about two and a half ounces then. Steve feels like he’s floating weightlessly on a little breeze.

Bucky waits for Steve to say more, but when all Steve can do is smile, he prompts him eagerly. “You excited?”

Steve laughs. “You bet I am.”

“Me too,” Bucky says quietly. He’s still grinning.

Steve stares at him, committing those new laughter lines to memory. Maybe he’ll find time to draw them later. “I love you.”

Bucky blinks and freezes momentarily. They’re still overcoming habits from their closeted boyhoods; they don’t usually say that in front of so many people. “Thanks,” he breathes, then passes the phone back to Stark, calling out, “Love you, too,” once Steve can no longer see him.

“Congrats, guys, it’s a…enhanced,” Stark says with mock excitement. “What’s the team’s age requirement? _Do_ we have an age requirement? You guys are giving me the super-soldier army the U.S. government always wanted.”

“Tony, don’t go there,” Steve warns through a smile.

“Oh, don’t worry, I wouldn’t do that to, uh, _her_. Your daughter.”

“Tony,” Steve whines.

“Come on, Tony,” Banner groans. “I _just_ told you not to—”

“Yep, it’s a girl. A baby princess. I knew the whole time we’ve been talking and Banner told me not to say, but I'm—I’m a—a what?”

Banner clarifies from off-camera: “A bad friend.”

“I am a _bad friend._ I have no self-control. I’m sorry, I’m so bad with secrets. It’s crazy. Happy hundred-and-second, Rogers. Godfather — congratulations,” he says seriously, throwing Sam a salute, and then ends the call.

The view-screen closes and the windshield is filled with nothing but a cloudless starfield, indistinguishable from the whitecaps in the black ocean below. Sam programs their flight path for the Facility at Lake Alice. They’ll arrive in thirteen hours. Steve collapses into the copilot’s chair, staring absently out at the horizon. Thirteen hours has never seemed like such a long time.

“You remember back when we first met, Steve?” Sam’s voice blends pleasantly into the quiet hum of the engine, warm and steady. “I asked you what made you happy.”

“Yeah.”

“And you said you didn’t know.”

“Yeah. I remember that.”

Sam glances back at him. “You think you know now?”

Steve relinquishes himself to another fit of laughter and bows his head gratefully. “Yeah. I think I do.”

“See, I told you you’d figure it out. And you didn’t believe me, but I know my shit. You’re not the first war-hero I’ve counseled, you know.”

“You were right.”

“I know I was right.”

“You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, Sam.”

“Where’d that come from? What are we, thirteen?”

“You are.”

“I know. And you’re welcome.”


End file.
